The Anomaly of District 2
by Peachy Hikaru
Summary: Rosalie is a girl from District 2 who can't kill. Angered, the District Council sends her for the 74th Hunger Games, and Cato, her boyfriend, volunteers to protect her. There is no Katniss in this story; it is AU, although some plot elements are borrowed
1. Chapter 1

"She can't be allowed to stay." No names had been given, but everyone knew whom the head of the District Council was talking about. There was a moment of silence, before nods of agreement. They'd all known it was coming since this anomalous girl had been brought to their attention.

"We can't simply kick her out," a member of the Council objected. "She hasn't broken any of our rules. It would cause a rebellion." The new factor silenced the Council again. While it was true, she couldn't be allowed to stay; she was too different, a bad influence of the rest of the Careers.

Yet another member of the Council spoke up. "Well, then she'll have to be our Tribute for this year's Hunger Games. She'll never come out of it alive." The Council nodded in agreement, and the head of the Council spoke up.

"Then it is agreed. She will represent District 2 at the next Hunger Games. This meeting is hereby adjourned."

As they filed out of the large room, a member of the Council lingered for a moment, feeling guilty. This member was also the principal of the only school they had in District 2, the one where all the youths went to learn how to win the Hunger Games.

He sighed, feeling bad for the girl who they had just sentenced to death. It wasn't her fault, really. She was a brilliant warrior, excellent with every weapon, agile and fast… except for her apparent inability to kill.

Oh, she could kill animals. She was an excellent hunter, often putting meat on her family's table, such as deer and rabbit. But when it came to killing another person… He could still remember the first time they'd put her in a combat arena. She'd managed to pin her opponent, a girl older and larger than her, in a matter of minutes, and had been about to deal the killing strike, when… she'd stopped. Just dropped her knife and backed away.

Confused, the other girl had just lain there, reeling from her ordeal, relief at being spared warring with humiliation that she'd lost so fast, and so badly, to a girl younger and smaller than her.

The confused spectators were silent, before a buzzing started up, people wondering why she had suddenly stopped. The referee stood up and called a halt to the fight, and Rosalie, the girl who'd dropped the knife, ducked out of the ring, trembling.

It was just nerves, everyone had said. Some people got like that during the first few battles, girls especially. She would be fine for the next battle. No one wanted to even think about the possibility that the prodigy they'd produced, the one they'd said was a sure winner of the Hunger Games, didn't have the killing drive necessary to be their pride.

But then she'd come into his office the next day, looking small and lost and broken, and told him that she wanted to leave the academy. She didn't want to have to kill other people, she'd told him, and given him a chilling description of how she'd felt as she looked into the eyes of the other girl, and seen the certainty that she was going to die at Rosalie's hand.

"And I… I couldn't do it," she finished, whispering the last part. "I can't kill." Her hands twisted anxiously in her lap as she waited for his response.

And he'd panicked. How could this have happened? Running on autopilot, he'd convinced her to stay in the academy until she graduated, promised that he wouldn't put her in any more battles as long as she maintained her form.

When she'd left, relieved, he'd immediately gone to the Council to tell them, knowing even as he'd done so that he'd signed her death sentence. There was no way that the Council would let her live here; she was a liability to them and their reputation.

But he hadn't known what else to do, so he'd done the "right" thing, and in doing so, had sentenced his baby girl to death, or at the very least, exile.

To this day, he didn't understand why he'd done that so many years ago. But he'd just been so angry, lost and humiliated, that his youngest daughter couldn't – _wouldn't -_ kill, and now that he'd done it, he couldn't undo it. Of course, the head of the Council had praised him, saying he was thinking for the good of the District, that he was a fair leader, and he'd soaked it all in, thinking that they were right – Oh, God, how stupid he'd been.

He walked home slowly, the guilt weighing down on him. When he opened the door, the aroma of delicious stew, mixed with chocolate chip cookies, greeted him. Rosalie hurried out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Good evening, Daddy!" she greeted with a smile, hugging him tightly. "Dinner will be ready soon," she told him as she held his hand affectionately and led him to the table.

"Good evening, Rose," he replied mechanically as he followed her obediently. When he was seated, she disappeared back into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she walked out, carrying the pot of stew in one hand and a plate full of fresh rolls in the other. Her older sister, Lily, followed behind her, cleaning her hands off on her apron.

"Lily made the rolls," Rosalie explained as she set the food down on the table, leaving him marveling at her strength. She was easily the best warrior at the academy, his pride and his joy, except for the silly abhorrence she had towards killing.

Still, he had to admit, that abhorrence made her a much sweeter person than most other people in the District. In fact, she was arguably the nicest person in District Two. She did have good genetics; he'd won the 48th Hunger Games when he was fifteen, and her mother had won the 51st Hunger Games when she was sixteen.

So it perplexed him that the two of them could produce a child _incapable of killing_.

Not noticing his mood, she went to call the other members of their family to the dining table. Her mother and two older brothers, Caleb and Eric, came to the table as she yelled for them. Caleb, at the age of twenty-two, had was the victor of the 68th Hunger Games, having volunteered at the age of sixteen.

Still, you wouldn't have known it from his easygoing demeanor, as he kissed Rosalie on the forehead and messed up her braid, commenting "That smells good, Rose," as he sat down. Rosalie glared at him as she tried to put her braid to rights without re-doing it.

Eric, who had passed the eligible age to enter the Hunger Games at nineteen, laughed and agreed. "You've always been able to cook so much better than Mom has," he told her.

"Hey, what about me!" Lily protested. At twenty, she was a fine warrior, quietly confident in her abilities but never feeling the need to prove herself in the Games.

At the same time, their mother showed up and punched her younger son in the head. "I heard that!" she chastised, not worrying that he was groaning in pain because she knew her children were all sturdier than that.

On any other night, his family's antics would have made him laugh. They never failed to cheer him up, no matter how bad his day had been. But tonight it just made his mood all the fouler, because he knew this wasn't going to last. Rosalie, his sweet little girl, would be gone, their family dynamics altered forever.

"How was your day, Daddy?" Rosalie asked in her lilting voice, smiling at him. This was how dinner at their house always went; she would start the ball rolling by asking him how his day went, then everyone would share in turn. He loved this routine. He was pretty sure that his was the only family that practiced this routine, and it made their family so much closer as a result.

"Well, not very interesting. Had a meeting with the Council," he said nonchalantly, hiding his guilt. She grinned at him and the banter and teasing started up again. Right now, with everything so perfect, he could almost forget that Rosalie would be gone from them soon. Almost. But not quite.

* * *

><p>Rosalie was worried about her father. Something was wrong with him, and she could sense it. There was nothing markedly different about him, but he seemed to smile less, and he hadn't laughed at all since he'd come back.<p>

She wondered if it was something that had happened at the Council meeting, or if it was just that the lottery for the Games' tributes were coming up soon. She wasn't worried; she knew that many people were itching to participate in the Games, and they likely wouldn't even hold a lottery.

She knew her family was concerned and perplexed over her apparent inability to kill anyone, but she couldn't bring herself to take another human life. Even the thought of it made her shudder. Killing animals was bad enough, when she used her bow and arrow. Every time she took a life, she prayed for it, feeling terrible as she felt the life bleed out of the poor animal, and she never hunted any more than she had to.

When dinner was over, she collected the dishes and put them into the sink. It was the tradition in her family that the girls would make dinner, and then the boys would clean up. Many dishes had been broken due to this tradition, but no one except the boys would allow for a change.

When she was done, she quickly washed up and went over to Cato's house to see him. She practically skipped all the way there, anticipating seeing him again, although she'd seen him barely a few hours ago at school.

His mother smiled at her when she opened the door. "He's in his room, dear," she told her. Rosalie smiled and said her thanks as she ran up to his room, opening the door without knocking.

Cato was propped up against his pillows, wearing only his boxer shorts and reading a magazine – one of the luxuries afforded them by the Capitol. When he saw her, he grinned and palmed his crotch. "Hey babe, wanna fuck?" he asked lewdly.

She rolled her eyes and scooted onto the bed next to him, snuggling against him while she made herself comfortable. She ignored his comment. "I'm worried about Daddy," she told him. "He seemed out of sorts just now at dinner." He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her closer to him. "He's probably just worried about the Reaping," he told her as he tugged on her braid gently.

She gave him a mock glare as she pulled her braid from his hand. "First Eric and now you, I swear it's like my hair has a man magnet," she grumbled. He chuckled. "I'm pretty sure there are other parts of you that are man magnets, but I don't think it's your hair and I highly doubt that your brother would be attracted to them."

She thumped her fist on his chest lightly, and they went back to talking about the Reaping. She told him that she worried she'd be selected, and he scoffed. "Clove will volunteer to go, and you know it," he told her. "She's been champing at the bit for the longest time. I wouldn't worry about it if I was you," he assured her.

Clove was a girl in the District. The same age as Cato and a year older than Rosalie, her sadistic and battle-hungry nature made her a prime candidate for a Victor of the Games. "I guess," she said and snuggled closer to Cato, closing her eyes in contentment.

They often fell asleep together this way. More nights than not, Rosalie came over to Cato's place, and she almost always fell asleep next to her. He'd told her, albeit in a much less refined way, that she was so adorable that he could never bear to wake her up, and so they often woke up together.

The first time it had happened, Rosalie's parents had been frantic, until she came in the next morning looking totally fine. Since then, they'd learned to accept it, knowing that it wasn't going to change no matter what they said. Besides, she was safe, so it wasn't like they had much cause to worry.

Cato turned the both of them over, so that she was against the wall, and wouldn't fall off the bed, since she had a tendency to roll around in her sleep and had fallen off the bed more than once.

Satisfied, he closed his eyes too and settled in next to her for the night.

* * *

><p><em>Aww, isn't this adorable! I have a chapter fic planned out, but I would like to hear some affirmation for this story. Love it, hate it? Please let me know so I can continue (or delete) this story where appropriate. Comments and suggestions are also welcome.<em>

_This is my first time venturing out of my comfort zone, which is really only anime series, so I hope you guys will be kind to me! (: I also hope you enjoy this story because I really like it._

_Story is rated T for now, but if I keep writing it will almost certainly go up to M._

_Love,_

_Peachy Hikaru_

_P.S. I do not own the storyline! It, as well as the characters, are Suzanne Collins', and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun with them. (:_


	2. Chapter 2

"Class dismissed."

At that, everyone put down their weapons and left the hall. They were being released early today, so that they could go home and prepare for the Reaping.

As Rosalie cycled home on her bicycle, she worried about the Reaping. She worried that she would be selected, that Cato would be selected – or, worse, that he would volunteer. He hadn't said anything to her about it, and she knew he wouldn't, but she could tell that he was thinking about it.

She had the utmost confidence in his abilities, but she worried that he'd come home cynical and jaded, and… changed, the way Caleb had been. She shivered as she remembered what Caleb had been like when he'd returned, so quiet and sad, having nightmares.

Oh, sure, not everyone had nightmares about the Games, but she couldn't imagine how surviving at the expense of twenty-three other lives could allow a person to sleep soundly.

Caleb was still haunted, and she could tell. Although he smiled the way he had before, it didn't quite reach his eyes, and she saw shadows there that hadn't been there before, although to be honest she'd been eight when he'd left, so maybe she was mistaken about the shadows. But he didn't laugh as much as he used to, and it saddened her to think of Cato not laughing anymore. She loved his laughter, loud and booming and warming every crevice of her soul.

"I'm home!" she yelled as she burst through the front door. Her mother came down, fussing over her. "Oh, why are you so late! Lily is in the shower right now, and she's already laid something out for you to wear, so go and clean up, you stink!"

"Well, I _have _been training," Rosalie reminded her dryly as she ran up the stairs. "Where's Daddy!" she called.

'He's at the Council Meeting! The escort arrived this morning!" her mother replied.

When Rosalie walked into her bedroom, she saw the outfit that Lily had laid out for her and smiled as she saw the sleeveless red dress that Lily had selected. A large black belt with a dramatic buckle lay next to it.

Rosalie walked into the adjoining bathroom that she shared with her sister, shooing her out of it and into her own room as she stripped out of her uniform, a custom-made skin-tight one-piece that was the standard for every student of the academy. Shaking her hair out of its tight French braid, she stepped into the shower and quickly cleaned up.

When she came out, she wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel as she dried her hair. Walking into her room, she put her dress on before walking across the bathroom to her sister's room, where Lily sat at the dresser, doing her makeup.

"Help me with my hair," she requested. Lily rolled her eyes. "You know, it's time you learn how to use your own hot tools," she lectured, but when she finished, she gestured for Rosalie to sit as she plugged her hair dryer in and dried Rosalie's hair.

Next, she took her curling iron out and curled Rosalie's hair, before pulling it back in a pretty half-up, half-down hairstyle, with wisps of hair framing her face. After applying some simple make-up for Rosalie, she deemed her fit to go.

"And just in time, too, it seems," she said, smirking as Cato pulled up in his father's car, honking loudly. Rosalie sprinted down the stairs and slipped her feet into the pretty black heels that her mother had laid out for her.

Now that Cato was old enough to drive, his parents had decided to attend the adults-only party before the Reaping, since Cato could take his siblings to the town square. Since he had two siblings who were going to have their name in the lottery for the first time this year, he'd panicked and begged – or ordered, actually – Rosalie to come along with him, since – and he'd said this in a tone of disgust – they all "hero-worshipped" her.

As she opened the door to get into the car, his three siblings greeted her exuberantly, although she could see the worry in the twelve-year-old twins' eyes. Caitlin and Caius frowned slightly as they held on tightly to each other's hands.

"Oh, guys, don't worry. Your names have only been in there once!" she exclaimed, hugging them as best she could in the cramped space. "They aren't going to pick you! And I'm sure there will be people who volunteer. They might not even do the lottery. You know it doesn't happen every year!"

"I think Clove will volunteer," Caitlin said softly, and Cato's youngest sister, Ceara, frowned mightily. "I don't like Clove," she said haughtily. "She's mean." Rosalie laughed, but felt she had to tell Ceara, "You can't say that, dear. That's mean too." Ceara frowned. "You don't want to be a meany like Clove, do you!" Rosalie added. Shaking her head, Ceara subsided.

When they arrived, Cato parked the car and his parents immediately came to collect Ceara. Then they took the twins to sign in, telling them what would happen. When the Peacekeepers pricked them and made them smear their blood, they jumped just a little at the shock, and obediently went to stand in alphabetical order.

Cato leaned down and gave Rosalie a light peck on the lips, before he went to stand with the boys. (line break)

The District Council stood to the side of the town square, as everyone stood at attention, tense, vibrating with anticipation. "Good morning, everyone," the escort from the Capitol said smoothly as he stepped onto the stage, behind the podium.

Rosalie's father stifled a gasp, knowing what was to come. The escort had been briefed not to accept any volunteers from the girls' side. Though they had not explicitly said so, the escort had been in charge of District 2 for many years now, and knew what to do.

"As is tradition, we will start with the video from the Capitol, made especially for you," the escort said in his grating voice. On his cue, the video clip started to play.

It ended with "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour." A smattering of the obligatory polite applause sounded, but really, everyone just wanted to get on with it.

"As always, ladies first," he said, dipping his hand into the bowl and selecting a piece of paper. Tearing the tape open, he read out the name on the paper. "Rosalie Montague," he said. Clove immediately rushed forward. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" she cried out, but was ignored.

"Rosalie, please come up here," he called, not sparing Clove even a glance. Rosalie knew then what had happened. She knew they had told the escort to ignore any volunteers. She knew that her father had betrayed her, and that she had been sentenced to death for being too different from the rest. For not being sadistic like Clove, not wanting to kill another fellow human being.

Well, if she had to die, she wasn't going to let them remember her as a snivelling coward. Turning her nose up, she walked calmly and regally to the podium. "I am honoured to be selected to represent my District," she said flatly, her eyes seeking her father's, telling him without any words that she knew what he had done. In response, he lowered his gaze, not wanting to see the open resentment and recrimination in her eyes.

"Well, now for the boys," the escort continued.

"I volunteer!" Cato lunged forward, running to the stage. "I volunteer." The escort looked at him, and shrugged. The council hadn't said anything about not allowing the boys to volunteer. "All right then," he said. "Your name?"

"Cato Raine," he said into the microphone. "I am honoured to take part in the Hunger Games."

Rosalie looked at Cato, her wide eyes questioning. He held her hand in his tightly, letting her know that he was there for her.

"District 2's tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!" the escort shouted, holding Cato's arm up. Cato, in turn, held Rosalie's arm up as well, their hands locked together.

After that, they were quickly ushered into a room behind the town square, and left alone for a short period of time.

"They set me up," Rosalie said quietly, breaking the silence. "They wouldn't let Clove volunteer. They set me up." She couldn't seem to stop saying the words that resonated so strongly in her soul, the betrayal that was eating her from the inside out. She hugged herself tightly. "My father told them."

Seeing her like that, so broken and sad, broke Cato's heart. "Oh, babe," he said softly as he pulled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth in a soothing action, almost like he did with Ceara when she had nightmares. She turned so that her face was buried in his chest and sobbed, while he whispered soothing nonsense to her and stroked her back.

A while later, the door opened, and she leapt out of his arms while swiping at her face with her hands. "Three minutes," the Peacekeeper said as he ushered in her mother and sister. Lily immediately hugged Rosalie tightly. "You have to promise you'll try to win," she said sternly, but Rosalie could see the worry and sadness in her eyes, and knew that she didn't really believe Rosalie would win.

Rosalie said nothing, but hugged her tightly and buried her face in her neck. "I'll miss you while I'm gone," she whispered softly. The two of them knew this was a goodbye, and Lily hugged Rosalie so tight she felt like her bones were going to pop for a moment before she released her.

"Oh, Rosie," her mother sighed and hugged her tightly. "Be careful out there, do you hear me?" Rosalie hugged her mother back as she buried her face in her mother's shoulder, feeling like a child again. "Oh, Mommy," she cried as the look in her mother's eyes made tears spring to her eyes anew. "It was Daddy… and the Council… and they wouldn't let Clove volunteer!" While she sobbed in her mother's arms, she poured out the story and her suspicions in a generally incoherent tone, while her mother stroked her back and promised that she would get to the bottom of it.

"And you," she said, frowning at Cato over Rosalie's shoulder, "You had better take care of my baby girl, is that understood?" He nodded solemnly, meaning it.

After that, Cato's family came in, his mother clucking over him but expressing confidence in his ability; his father, a hulking mountain of a man giving him an encouraging pat on the back which had sounded more like a punch to Rosalie but that Cato barely reacted to at all; his siblings, hugging both Cato and Rosalie and wishing them well.

Then Rosalie's brothers came and went.

When they were about to be transported to the train, Rosalie's father appeared abruptly. "Rose," he said, a wealth of pain leaking into the one word.

Rosalie stiffened visibly. "Father," she said coolly. "What are you doing here?"

He swallowed. "Rose, please," he pleaded. "Look at me." Rose gave a little laugh, humourless and bitter. "Why?" she asked, her voice devoid of emotion. "So you can look me in the eye and tell me that you didn't plan this? You and the Council didn't sit in your comfortable seats while I trained and made dinner and cookies, and plot my death? Or so you can tell me you're sorry for what you did? Well, I'm sorry, but sorry isn't good enough. Oh wait, actually, I'm not sorry at all."

"Rose, please. It was a mistake," he said desperately.

"A mistake?" she started calmly, but her voice soon grew in volume. "A _mistake_? I'm going to _die_, and it's your fault! And you said that it is a _mistake_?" She rounded on him, her eyes incredulous and furious. "Well, that's one hell of a mistake, now isn't it, Daddy dear?" she asked almost hysterically, before turning away from him.

The Peacekeepers came in after that and muscled him out, and he didn't object. He knew he deserved it. "I really am sorry, Rose. If nothing else, please believe that I love you."

Those words broke Rosalie, turned her bitter anger into sadness. She turned to Cato, and he hugged her tightly as she cried, for all the bitterness, the sadness she felt at her father's betrayal.

And that moment was worse than anything she'd said or done to him. As he left, he knew he'd seen her for the last time, and that she would never remember him in the same way again. He'd destroyed the purest love he'd ever received; the love a daughter had for her father, the unconditional, innocent love he'd felt every time she smiled at him, or laughed, or hugged him tightly.

It was all his fault, and he knew that the tableau of anguish he'd created was his burden to carry forever.

* * *

><p><em>Phew! Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I can't believe I've gotten so many reviews already, I've gotten like seven in the past 24 hours since I put the previous chapter up. You guys are amazing! (: I'm not even sure I have seven reviews in total for some of my other stories.<em>

_I hope you like this chapter; keep reviewing please! (: Tell me what you want to see, and I will try my best to make it happen. I promise that all feedback will be taken into account, and I will try to make everyone happy!_

_Love,_

_Peachy Hikaru_


	3. Chapter 3

"You'll love this train. We'll have to feed you, of course, which we will on the train, and it will be a surprise to you, how nice the train is. But it's going to be a short journey, only a night, because District 2 is so close to the Capitol, of course," the escort, Ray Corazon, told them.

He was a short man, his hair dyed turquoise and in stark contrast to his purple skin. He seemed singularly unconcerned with them as they walked into the lavishly decorated train, and he immediately disappeared. Rosalie turned towards the door behind which he'd disappeared, but Cato caught her hand.

"Relax," he told her as he pulled her into his embrace, his hips gyrating gently against her. She rolled her eyes and smacked him on the ass, and he laughed loudly. She wondered how he could still be so carefree.

"So _you're _the two idiots I have to spend the next week with?" A low, growly voice cut Cato's laughter off abruptly. He immediately took a menacing step towards the source of the voice, a great hulking man with chilling blue eyes and messy blonde hair.

"I don't know who you think you are, but no one fucking talks to me like that," Cato growled between his teeth. Rosalie grabbed one of his clenched fists and tugged on it, pulling him back to her and refusing to let him go. Before Cato remembered how much stronger he was than her and attacked this man anyway, she quickly walked up to him, placing herself strategically between Cato and the man.

"Hello, I'm Rosalie and this is Cato. I assume you are our mentor…?" She trailed off, her gaze prompting him to introduce himself. "Romeo Ceasear," he introduced himself gruffly. She smiled brightly at him. "You mentored my brother as well!" she exclaimed. When he stared at her blankly, she told him, "Caleb Montague."

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully; Rosalie wasn't sure why the Career districts even needed mentors, since they'd been prepped for this since they could walk, practically. Romeo's surly attitude continued to grate on Cato, but she wasn't bothered.

Dinner was a lavish, scrumptious affair. Courses after courses were brought out, and each course comprised of expensive and rare ingredients, meats, herbs and spices.

After dinner, they all retired to their respective rooms. Rosalie sat gingerly on her large bed; it was so plush and comfortable she felt rather out of place on it. She stood up and walked over to her overnight bag; it was all she had been allowed to bring, since, as the escort had told her, everything would be provided for her in the Capitol. She hadn't changed out of her dress since she'd been called up, since the Peacekeepers hadn't allowed her to leave. Instead, her mother and sister had been told to bring her some necessities and a spare set of clothes.

She hoped her sister had packed her something comfortable; she knew her mother would pack the prettiest pieces of clothing she owned, and while those were very nice and flattering on her, they were _extremely_ uncomfortable.

She dug into her bag and found two sets of clothes; a tank top with a star print and a pair of drawstring shorts, and a pretty sundress, which she was sure had been her mother's doing.

She changed into the tank top and shorts, exhaling in relief as the comfort of her old clothes seeped into her. Lying back down onto the bed, she tried again to fall asleep, but failed.

Finally, she gave up and decided to look for Cato instead. As she walked to his room, she marveled at how fast they were going, and yet it was so smooth, it was almost like they weren't even moving!

As she let herself into Cato's room, he looked up from the television, where he was nonchalantly flipping channels. He grinned at her when he saw her. "Look, they have such large screens! And what clear definition!" he exclaimed. She rolled her eyes, although it was true. Back home, they were only given small television sets, and nowhere near as many channels as this.

She snuggled next to him on the bed, and started watching the TV with him. He was watching a talk show, where a rerun of some parts of a previous Hunger Games was playing. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched a boy viciously smash another boy's head with a brick until his eyes closed and he died. The victor then lifted the brick, and she gasped as she saw the blood on it.

Then he turned, and in his chilling eyes, she saw a tundra wasteland. "That… that's my brother," she said in a choked voice, her eyes filling up. Shock, fear and sympathy shot through her – shock that her loving brother had looked like that, his eyes so flat and emotionless, fear that she would end up like that, and finally, sympathy, not just for her brother but for the rest of the Victors, who weren't really victors at all, because they had to live with the burden of knowing they had cost twenty-three other people their lives.

Cato hugged her tightly, and rubbed her back with his huge hands, as she rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying his warmth and strength. "Cato, you have to kill me."

He stiffened and slowly released her, so he could pull back and look into her eyes. "What?" he asked in shock.

"When the Games start. You have to kill me, and then you have to win. Please. I don't want - " her voice choked, and she had to clear her throat and begin again. "I don't want to be like that. I can't kill, Cato. You know that. I don't want to either. You have to kill me. Please. As soon as the Games start. And you have to win for me. Because I want someone to remember me not as the anomaly of District 2, the freak who can't kill. Even my family thinks I'm strange.

"You're probably the only person who sees me as a person, a real person, and accepts me. So please, Cato. I want you to do it, because I know you'll make it as quick and painless as possible. I'm counting on you."

Cato stared at her, horrified. How could he kill her? He'd thought about volunteering this year, but it wasn't until she'd gone up, her face set blankly but her eyes showing such a wealth of pain, that he'd actually volunteered. It hadn't been about his superior abilities, but about protecting her.

So how could he kill her? He shook his head slowly in denial. "I can't kill you, Rose."

Her head whipped up in response to that. "You have to," she insisted. "If you don't someone else will, and I couldn't bear that. Besides," she added with a shrug, "The viewers will lap it up if you actually kill someone from your District. It will increase your chances of winning."

Then the blasé façade faded, and she suddenly looked so small and vulnerable. "Please, Cato. You have to do it."

His shoulders slumped. Put that way, he seemed like the bad guy for not honouring her request. "Fine," he mumbled. She smiled beautifully and hugged him. "Thank you, Cato," she whispered gratefully. It baffled him that she would thank him for agreeing to kill her, but he didn't voice his thoughts, and just hugged her back.

Exhausted, Rosalie fell asleep soon after, with her head on Cato's chest. But Cato couldn't sleep, haunted by the promise that he'd made. Looking down at her, sleeping peacefully, he brushed a lock of hair back, away from her face. For the first time, he felt resentment against the Games, and felt helplessness.

He was basically caught in a lose-lose situation; he had to kill Rosalie, or watch her be killed. He knew he couldn't die before her because he had to look out for her. How he wished that the Hunger Games was a team event. Then they could work together, and win together. Or die together, because he couldn't live without her. Trite though it sounded, she'd been there basically all his life.

He remembered the day they'd met, when she was four and he was five, at the playground at the school. Of course, aggressive behaviour had been condoned, even encouraged, but when a trio of large seven-year-old boys advanced on him threateningly, he'd cowered, terrified, sure that he was going to get beaten up that day.

Suddenly, a tiny brunette Valkyrie, with her hair done adorably in two long braids, had jumped in front of him and scowled ferociously at the boys. "Get away from him!" she'd yelled at them. When they merely laughed and continued towards them, she'd run forwards and kicked the leader in the shins so hard he'd fallen to his knees with a cry of pain.

Needless to say, they'd all run off, embarrassed to say that they'd been defeated by a tiny little pixie. When she was satisfied with how far they'd run away, she turned and walked back towards him with a concerned look on her face. "Are you all right?" she asked, and he was sure he'd fallen for her then.

They'd been best friends, then childhood sweethearts, and he wondered how it was possible for him to fall for her a little more each day when they already knew each other inside out.

He forced himself to sleep because he knew that it would be a hectic few days, and he needed all the energy he could get. Still, it wasn't a deep sleep. He slept lightly and fitfully, tossing and turning until Rosalie, annoyed, smacked him sleepily in the middle of his chest before cuddling back up to him.

The next morning, Rosalie had to go back to her room to change into her pretty sundress, which was a light pastel pink, almost white. Since Romeo had told them the make a good first impression on the sponsors, she wore some jewelry that her mother had packed for her, and cute sandals.

When she walked into the dining cabin, Romeo sneered at her when he saw her. "Oh, look it's a fairy!" he exclaimed mockingly. Ignoring him, she calmly sat down at her place. "Good morning, Cato, Romeo," she said coolly. "I trust you slept well?"

Cato growled threateningly at Romeo. "Be. Polite," he gritted out, his brows an angry slash over his eyes. Romeo laughed. "Or you'll do what? Scoop my eyes out with a spoon?"

After that, the rest of the breakfast was awkward. Cato and Rosalie spoke softly to each other, while Rosalie made small attempts to include Romeo into their conversation, only to be rebuffed by a sneer or an insult, which made Cato angry, and then she would have to placate him by squeezing his hand gently and soothingly under the table

Suddenly, the escort, who had remained relatively silent throughout the meal, spoke up. "Ah, we're almost there!" he exclaimed. Soon enough, within five minutes, the train pulled into the station at the Capitol and stopped. The sound of cheering greeted them, and Cato and Rosalie went to the window to smile and wave graciously, displaying their held hands for everyone to see.

As they exited the train, Rosalie and Cato continued to hold hands as they waved at the excited Capitol citizens, who were dressed and coloured very strangely indeed. Rosalie saw a woman with long spidery eyelashes, tipped with neon pink, and wondered how her eyelids could hold such a heavy weight and remain open.

Upon entering the building, they were separated and taken to their prep teams. Rosalie was waxed all over, had her eyebrows plucked and was hosed down and moisturized to within an inch of her life.

Wondering if the same thing was happening to Cato, she had to stifle a giggle as she imagined him having his legs waxed.

Then they were sent together to meet their stylist, Sinjin, for the opening parade that night.

Sinjin, a tall man with naturally pale skin, black hair and black eyes, wore no makeup, and an easygoing outfit to match his demeanor. However, when it came to style, it seemed that he knew everything, and he dressed them up accordingly.

"The two of you are from District 2, which specializes in mining stones, correct?" he asked. They nodded in affirmation. "That includes gemstones. So we are going to make you look beautiful," he declared. "You will stand out from the crowd, because you know everyone else will try their best to do the same."

He fashioned their clothes around amethyst, lace agate, and rose quartz. Rosalie wore her hair in a simple classical updo, with wisps of hair framing her face, and an intricately made tiara with some gems in it. She wondered absently how Sinjin had managed to procure such a treasure and at such short notice, as she was dressed and polished.

Cato looked significantly more uncomfortable than she did, as he was poked, prodded and eventually, dressed in an outfit similar to hers – only more masculine, of course.

While they stood in their chariot, preparing to be presented to the Capitol citizens, Cato grumbled about the colour combination. "Purple and pink? That's gay. We should have gone for obsidian instead," he complained. Rosalie laughed softly and nudged him with her shoulder. "I think it looks very sexy on you," she told him, looking at him from under her lashes.

Still feeling like his dignity had been insulted, but feeling somewhat placated by Rosalie's reassurances, he turned towards the closed doors and waited for them to open.

He didn't have to wait long. Almost immediately, the doors opened, and light flooded into the dark room as the chariots began moving. The sound and sight of cheering Capitol citizens flooded his senses, and he was struck for a moment by the grandeur of it all.

* * *

><p><em>Hehe I hope you guys like this one! (:<em>

_I received some questions and comments by unsigned reviewers, so I'll just reply to them here. Those who submitted signed reviews, I will directly answer any questions via PM._

_To Anon: It's pronounced Ciara. (: Genevieve: Thank you! (: I try to make Cato appear mean and stuff to other people but nice to Rosalie, because I believe that he does have a nice side, and it's just that the Games brings out the worst in him (:_

_Thank you for all your support and encouragement, everyone. Also, I know I have been updating really fast, but that's because I had a long weekend this weekend. The next few weeks will be really hectic and busy for me, so I hope you guys understand if I upload chapters much more slowly! (:_

_Love,_

_Peachy Hikaru_


	4. Chapter 4

As the chariots' motors began to whir, the chariots slowly began to move forward. The roar in the stadium was deafening. People were tripping over themselves to get a closer look at the tributes, and cameras trained to the spectacle transmitted the scene to millions of viewers who were glued to their television sets.

Rosalie involuntarily clutched at Cato's hand as they emerged into the light. They waved confidently, although inside Rosalie felt like hiding under the chariot. It was stressful being seen and evaluated by so many people.

She snuck a glance at Cato; he seemed to be lapping up the attention. His smug look made her smile, and she allowed it to take her over, smiling proudly and confidently as she waved at the crowd. She raised her other arm, pulling Cato's along with her, as their fingers interlocked. They continued smiling and waving; the crowd went wild with applause.

Far above them, two middle-aged men sat in front of a desk, talking to a camera. "Well, looks like District 2 has outdone itself this time! I love the gem-themed costumes; so suitable for the quarry mining that District 2 specialises in!" Tweedledum said to Tweedledee.

"Yes, and look at that stance!" Tweedledee agreed excitedly. "'I'm proud to be here representing my District!' That's what they're saying. And 'I'm confident of winning this!'"

As the chariots all gathered in the front of the stadium, a screen was lowered. "Dear tributes," Seneca greeted them. "Congratulations on being selected for our 74th Annual Hunger Games." As he continued his speech, Rosalie melted into Cato's side as they wrapped an arm around each other, causing the audience members to go "Awww," at their sweet display.

Rosalie looked around surreptitiously as Cato stood straight, riveted by the speech presented by Seneca, and then Snow, trying to gauge the threat that the other tributes held towards Cato and herself. When she saw the District 12 tributes, she almost gasped in horror – they seemed so malnourished, small and slim, that she wondered how it was even feasible that they could participate.

This, of course, brought up a very important issue – why was the Capitol so wealthy, when the rest of the districts were so poor? Districts 1 and 2 were relatively wealthy as well, but it was appalling how little District 12 earned. Shouldn't all the Districts have the same treatment, and why should the Capitol earn so much?

She knew better than to voice those issues; the Capitol-born citizens here, who enjoyed their privileges, were not likely to appreciate it. But she couldn't fathom how this could seem fair.

* * *

><p>After the speech, the tributes were escorted to a building with twelve lavish apartments, where all of them would be staying. Rosalie and Cato were brought to their apartment on the second level by their escort, and accompanied by Romeo.<p>

Cato sucked in a breath at the lavish opulence of the apartment; stars in his eyes as he stared at the chandelier, the modern, sophisticated-looking furniture and architecture, and just the general _feel_ of it. He glanced over at Rosalie excitedly, wanting to see her reaction to their amazing apartment, but to his surprise, she didn't seem impressed at all, but her lips were pressed together, and he could tell that she was not happy with something.

Dinner that night was a quiet enough affair; other than the _oohs_ and _aahs_ of Rosalie and Cato over the scrumptious and exquisite meal, everyone was relatively silent, tired out by the day's events.

After dinner was over, they were shown to their rooms, but Cato didn't stay in his for long, only changing out of his ridiculous costume before joining Rosalie in hers. She sat on her bed, propped up by enormous amounts of fluffy pillows, with a sleek remote in her hand. "Hey, watch this," she said, as she clicked something on her remote.

To his astonishment, the scenery outside her floor-to-ceiling window changed completely. She clicked again, and the same thing happened. Finally, she turned the remote of and tossed it carelessly back onto the bedside table.

Cato stretched out on the bed next to her, lying on his stomach with his head turned so that he was looking up at her. "What's wrong, Rose?" he asked. She froze for a second, before relaxing again. "Nothing's wrong," she told him, a fake smile on her face.

He propped himself up on his elbows and glared at her. "Don't give me that shit. I've known you for eleven years; I can tell that something is wrong. Now spit it out."

She sighed and told him what was bothering her.

"Did you see those tributes from District 12? They look so tiny and under-nourished, like they're on the brink of starvation."

Cato shrugged. He had seen, but he hadn't thought much of it, except that they would be easy to pick off. Trust Rosalie to analyze it in such depth, though. "Yeah I did. What about them?" he asked.

"I was just thinking how unfair it is. That the Capitol has so much wealth, but it hoards it, so much so that other Districts have such a deficit they starve."

Well, put that way, it was pretty crappy of the Capitol. Still, it wasn't like they could do anything about it. When he told her so, she looked so sad for a moment that he almost wished he hadn't said anything. "Oh, babe," he sighed, gathering her into his arms. When she sniffled slightly, he stroked her back, lying against the mountain of pillows until they both fell asleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning, they were all given identical standard issue training jumpsuits, and ushered to the training hall. Before they started, a lean, tanned woman in a red jumpsuit with her hair tied back in a tight bun made them all sit as she gave them an introductory lecture.<p>

"In two weeks, twenty-three of you will be dead. Only one of you will survive. And although you may not realize it, you aren't each other's greatest enemy. Nature is. About ten percent of you will die of infection. Twenty percent will die of dehydration.

"So, if you want to remain alive, I suggest you not only spend time at the physical training stations. The survival skills stations are equally important.

"And with that, good luck, tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

Rosalie muttered that if "ever" meant "until they died", that they had a pretty good change of the odds. Cato snickered at that.

Then they started training and it was like Cato became a different person, rude, overbearing, obscene and vulgar. He stood around with the District 1 tributes, and the three of them had fun laughing at how "pathetic" the other tributes looked, and how they were totally going to win.

Keeping a distance from the three of them, who had rapidly formed their own clique, she busied herself with training at the weaponry stations, the physical training stations and the survival stations.

This year, their arena would be set in a forest, a terrain Rosalie was not familiar with. She applied herself wholeheartedly to learning how to survive, knowing that Cato would be too busy showing his strengths to intimidate the other tributes to come and learn the survival skills himself.

It wasn't that she blamed him – she understood that as a male, he felt some ridiculous need to establish his dominance. She could see the same thing happening with the District 1 male. They seemed to be a step away from calling a pissing fight, but the District 1 female just looked like she was relishing in all the male attention.

She managed to ignore her flirting until she actually put her hand on Cato's bicep and squeezed gently while she exclaimed over the size of it. "Wow, your guns are huge! I bet you're really strong," she breathed as she batted her eyelashes.

Eyes narrowed, Rosalie went over to the bow and arrow station. Picking up the bow, she strung it and sent it flying narrowly past the District 1 female's head. It whizzed past her temple, breaking a few strands of hair but not drawing blood. The District 1 female jerked and sent a threatening glare in Rosalie's direction. "Don't do that again," she growled menacingly.

Rosalie smiled sweetly at the female – what was her name again? Clover, she thought it was – and responded, "Oh, I'm ever so sorry. I don't know what came over me! I'm usually a much better aim than that." The polite apology was a thinly veiled warning, reinforced by the steel in her eyes. _Mine_, her eyes said. _Don't touch. Mine._

Flicking her ponytail disdainfully as she turned away from Rosalie, she then proceeded to ignore her, but her threat worked. Clover no longer stood so close to Cato, and she definitely didn't touch him.

When they were called out of the training room and told to have lunch, they were pointed at a buffet-like spread, with many large dishes, filled to the brim with exotic foodstuffs. Rosalie wondered if everyone in the Capitol ate this well, or if it was just because they were tributes and they figured they might as feel feed them well since they were going to die soon. Then she wondered when she'd become such a cynical bitch.

They were supposed to all sit together at a long table, females on one side and males on the other, in order of district. That put Rosalie next to Clover, and as she sat, she could almost feel Clover's hackles rising. She wanted to laugh at Clover. She had four more days to live; she wasn't about to waste it by letting some other bitch touch Cato, and screw Clover if she thought she could intimidate Rosalie into backing off.

While she was at the buffet table scooping some food onto her plate, Cato came up behind her and wrapped an enormous arm around her waist, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Why didn't you join us just now?" he asked softly.

She looked up at him. "Do you not think it'll be strange if we act like this now, and when we get into the arena you kill me instantly? Besides, I knew you wouldn't be going to the survival skills stations, so be glad I went there. I'll teach you tonight."

Cato frowned mightily. "I don't need to care what everyone thinks. I'm more than capable of winning this stupid thing by myself, without any external help from sponsors. I don't want you to go around by yourself anymore, all right?" he kissed her ear and continued. "I don't like it, the way the other guys look at you."

She huffed at him, acting affronted by his possessiveness, although they both knew she didn't really mind it. "Fine," she conceded finally. He grinned at her. "Good," he said, before picking some food off her plate with his fingers and popping it in his mouth, before running away. "That is extremely disgusting!" she yelled after him.

Lunch was an awkward affair. Cato and the boy from District 1, whose name was, apparently, Noah, seemed to have fallen into an easy camaraderie, laughing uproariously over the most distasteful jokes.

If only it was that easy with Clover. She kept fingering the area where Rosalie's arrow had sliced the hair off, expecting Rosalie to apologize profusely for it, until Rosalie felt like getting a damn scissors and hacking all her hair off until she had nothing left to finger. It was her fault for flirting with Cato, anyway.

After lunch, they all returned to the arena. At Cato's request, she'd joined him and the District 1 tributes, and came to actually enjoy Noah's company. It wasn't just that he was good-looking, which he definitely was, but he was rather chivalrous, helping her with her knife throwing, which was the weapon she was weakest at.

Clover was definitely not happy that Rosalie had stolen all the male attention from her, since Cato was hovering around Noah and Rosalie, guarding his "property" jealously, keeping an eagle eye on them to make sure that Noah didn't try anything with Rosalie. She tried to be friendly to Clover, smiling at her occasionally and correcting her stance with a bow and arrow, since it was Rosalie's greatest strength.

Still, she hadn't expected for Clover to toss a huge machete down at Rosalie's feet, narrowly missing her toes. The gauntlet had been thrown down, and Rosalie knew she had become Clover's personal target in the arena. Clover was going to try her best to kill Rosalie herself, and they both knew it.

* * *

><p><em>Hi guys! (: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. (: I tried my best to showcase how training in a high-tension environment with the other tributes changed the main characters' behaviours and stuff, so please review to let me know how I did, or if you have any feedback, comments or suggestions at all. (:<em>

_Please do note that since the long weekend is over (sobs) I will no longer be doing daily updates. It is likely that the next update will be next weekend, although I promise I will try my best to update before that. I'm totally busy on Tuesday, because of track finals then track dinner, and on Thursday I have three papers, so we'll see how it goes though._

_Please also do note that the story rating has been changed to M; this means that there _will _be lemons in upcoming chapters. If you don't want to read them, please drop me a review so I can put a warning at the beginning of the lemon chapter. If not, I will not do so. (:_

_Until next time,_

_Love,_

_Peachy Hikaru_


	5. Chapter 5

The next four days of training were stressful. Tempers flared high and Cato especially fought with almost everyone. Rosalie, a pacifist at heart, had to consciously restrain herself from going to pull him out of fights, which sometimes occurred over the silliest things. She knew he had to develop his own personality with the other tributes, and especially with the sponsors, who would rate them according to their personality.

For some strange reason, every year, they seemed to like the most argumentative and belligerent tributes, so she supposed he was making himself well liked among sponsors.

For her part, she was developing her own 'trademark personality': a nonchalant and cool-headed tribute with amazing skills. She knew that was what they said about her, that she was likely a cold-blooded killer who would take the rest of them out and not be at all affected. Every night, they would sit in front of the enormous television screen, and watch the recap of their training, which was dissected by Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

It was actually rather amusing, how they gave her nonchalant behaviour such a sinister twist, even when it wasn't meant to come off that way, simply because she was a District 2 tribute. Apparently the District Council had not deemed it important to tell them that she'd been sabotaged and forced to come to the stupid Games.

Cato was, of course, thrilled by the comments they gave him, and there was good reason to be. Everyone was excited by the 'brutish, astonishingly strong and capable' tribute who was deemed the 'greatest threat to all the tributes'.

They hadn't talked about their agreement at all, both of them coming to a silent agreement to enjoy their last days together without bringing up the Games, and what he'd promised to do then. At night they cuddled up in the same bed, and spoke softly to each other, laughing quietly in the enveloping, safe darkness that cocooned them, like they were at home and not in the Capitol, like they were the same carefree teens they were then, and not the death-marked tributes they were now.

Still, absurd as it seemed to her, Cato seemed to genuinely enjoy the training, although he became more and more argumentative as the days passed. Some of the tributes thought it would be fun to needle him, and on the third day, one little girl had stolen his knife and climbed up the ropes with it.

He'd gone ballistic, of course, and blamed Noah for stealing his knife. Noah had denied it, he'd called Noah a "dumb bastard liar thief", and the two of them had tussled all over the room until the Peacekeepers came to separate them. Strangely enough, the two of them had made up within the hour, and continued going about terrorizing everyone.

If only it was so easy with Clover; she made snide, snippy remarks as Rosalie's form, her appearance, her abilities with weapons – making up ridiculous insults because Rosalie knew that there was _nothing_ wrong with her ability with weaponry – the fact that she didn't go around picking fights – Rosalie had called her a coward – and basically anything that she could think of.

Noah looked uncomfortable whenever Clover made a rude remark about Rosalie, but he remained quiet, not chastising her for her obvious vendetta. Rosalie thought it was unprofessional; they were here to accomplish something, and she was letting her childish pettiness get in the way. Of course, it wasn't like Rosalie had any room to say anything, considering that she'd all but forced Cato to promise he'd kill her so she wouldn't have to kill anyone else.

The personal training session on the last night had been particularly stressful; Rosalie had had to demonstrate all her abilities, and she felt like a walking advertisement for her Academy while doing so. They might as well have stuck an actual advertisement onto her jumpsuit.

Something that had upset her, was that the sponsors seemed less than interested in her. She wondered if the fact that she was the little sister of one of the winners had jacked the expectations of her up. Was she not meeting them?

She didn't much care, but just to show that she was a badass, since they apparently liked that, she lifted one of those heavy metal balls as they fawned over a roast pig, and tossed it at their feet. The ball skidded, leaving marks on the wood floor, and stopped right at the toes of Crane.

"Fair consideration," she said confidently, as she stalked off.

Cato was waiting there as she went back into the waiting room, since that was the only way to leave. When she walked back in, he rose quickly and went to her. "Are you all right? What happened?" he asked, concerned.

She rolled her eyes at him. "It was fine. Now go out there and impress everyone," she told him tenderly as she stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss for good luck.

Rolling his massive shoulders, Cato walked – or rather, strutted – out of the waiting room and into the training hall. His confidence and size alone gave the sponsors something to whisper about, and as he demonstrated his excellence with every weapon in the training facility, as well as his amazing brute strength and agility, they were shocked into silence.

When he finally finished, he stood in front of them once more, barely out of breath. "Fair consideration," he said, bowing respectfully, before striding confidently out of the training facility and back into the waiting room, where Katniss was waiting anxiously.

"How was it?" she asked, an adorable furrow between her eyebrows. "I think it went well," he said cockily.

She slid her arm through his and they walked back to their apartment.

The next day, they trained as per normal, but in the evening, they had to go on a talk show. Apparently it was standard for the tributes of every year to go on that talk show; it was another way to gain sponsors.

"And now, our ice queen, Rosalie!" the talk show host, Caesar Flickerman introduced, as Rosalie stepped onto the platform on which the lights and cameras were trained.

Her face was carefully set in blank lines, her thick honey-brown hair curled loosely and held back in a sophisticated half-up, half-down hairstyle, an elaborate pin of pearls and ice blue diamonds twinkling in her hair. She wore an amazing dress that the stylist had somehow managed to create over the previous three days, ice blue in colour, which hugged her slim torso and stretched over one shoulder in an asymmetrical strap. The skirt was a translucent white layer of mesh over an ice blue silk, and ended right before her mid-thigh, unlike the other female tributes, who wore sweeping floor-length gowns.

She turned to look at the audience, and lowered her head for a moment, acknowledging them, although her expression never deviated from the regal, cool expression she wore.

"Good evening," she said simply, her strong voice captivating the audience instantly. She sat gracefully on the plush seat and crossed one leg over the other, a seemingly nonchalant pose but one that Sinjin had told her countless times to make, because it showed off her long, pale legs and the gorgeous stiletto heels he'd managed to scrounge up from somewhere. They were mad uncomfortable, but so beautiful he'd told her to shut up and wear them when she'd complained.

"So, Rosalie, you are a District 2 tribute, and not only that, your older brother is a previous winner of the Games! How do you feel about being selected for the Games?" he asked her.

She gave a small smile, looking down for a second so that her long lashes, made even longer by Sinjin's magic mascara, seemed to brush against her cheekbones. "Well," she said carefully, "It's not a secret that both my parents, as well as my older brother, were victors. But I'm not going to sit here and make promises to Panem that I might not be able to keep. I will try my best to win, but at the end of the day, that's all any one of us can do."

"Rosalie, you're a very beautiful girl. Is there anyone at home that you want to go back to?"

She smiled sadly. "Well, I can't say yes."

"But you can't say no, either?"

"If what you're asking is, am I in love, the answer is unequivocally yes. But I won't be going home to him, because he came with me."

An awkward silence followed, in which the audience processed the fact that Cato and Rosalie were "star-crossed lovers" – only one of them could come out of this alive, and the other had to die. In addition, they were both Career tributes, which meant it might actually come down to the two of them against each other.

In his VIP seat at the front of the audience, Crane was ecstatic. This was marvelous! What good television it would make. The Games itself was already a matter of great entertainment to the Capitol; adding this romance to the mix would make this so memorable.

Caesar Flickerman cleared his throat and continued. "Well, that's bad luck. But I understand that you come from a large family. What is it like?"

Rosalie smiled again, awing the audience with her beauty. "Well, it's amazing. My siblings and I are very close, and as you can imagine, our play time was pretty intense." She gave a crooked grin, and the audience, as well as Caesar, laughed with her.

"So are you going to try and win so you can go back to them?" he asked.

"Of course." She said it matter-of-factly, as if it was a stupid question with an obvious answer.

"Well, there you have it! Rosalie Montague, our ice queen!" Caesar stood up with Rosalie, and after a small curtsy, she left the platform.

"He's huge, strong, and he's got something to prove! You know him as our Fury, we know him as Cato Raine!"

Rosalie and Cato were both amused at the nickname they had given him. "Their Fury?" Rosalie mouthed as she snickered. "Ice Queen is so much better." Giving her a mock glare, he stepped onto the platform.

Mad cheers and applause met him. It appeared he'd garnered quite a fan base, and knowing that he and Rosalie were together had only increased his support.

"So, Cato! What do you think about the Capitol?" Caesar asked jovially. "Well, it's very nice. Our apartment is so classy. And the fashion here is very refreshing!" The audience laughed, knowing how drab the fashion in the Districts were. "And the food is really good, too. I think I've gained some weight since I came here!" he continued.

"Yes, that tends to happen. When I first moved to the Capitol I got this belly here," Caesar said, patting his slightly rounded belly. "I still haven't gotten rid of it," he said, with a self-depreciating grimace. The audience laughed again, and that was all the time Cato had.

The other tributes did their interviews, and Cato and Rosalie stood backstage together, commenting on how the other interviews went.

When the District 10 tributes went on, Rosalie shifted her weight uncomfortably and grimaced. "These shoes are killing me," she complained, looking jealously down at Cato's comfortable-looking shoes.

He rolled his eyes at her. "So take them off!" he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She glared at him. "No! It's extremely unsightly and you know we need to always appear professional in front of the audience."

Rolling his eyes again, he lifted her effortlessly in his arms and cradled her against his chest. Grinning down at her, he asked cockily, "All better?" She tsked playfully at him, but snuggled comfortably into his chest and shut her eyes for a moment.

He ended up carrying her all the way back to their apartment, and placed her gently on the sofa. "Your Majesty," he said playfully, bowing down dramatically at her feet.

Rosalie placed her hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her. For a moment their eyes were locked, mesmerized. Then the moment ended and Cato was on the sofa next to her, kissing her deeply, his hand cradling her head as he ravaged her mouth. They had gone this far before, but this was a different feeling, and both of them knew it was uncharted territory.

* * *

><p><em>Hi guys! (: Sorry for the late update, but I was really extremely super busy with school. Three projects due this week; can you believe it? But it's up now, so I hope you guys like it! (: Lemon in the next chapter or the one after that, most likely.<em>

_Feel free to review and drop me your comments, suggestions, etc! What do you want to happen to Cato and Rosalie? (:_


	6. Chapter 6

For a brief moment, Rosalie wondered briefly what was going to happen tonight. Obviously, unexpected things would occur. Should she stop him?

Cato raised his head and stared down at her fiercely, his blue eyes burning intensely. "Are you sure?" he grated out harshly, and she knew what he meant.

Was she? Rosalie forced herself to think clearly, although her mind felt sluggish from desire. She blinked slowly, trying to clear her mind of steamy, heated images. Where had those come from? She frowned slightly as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.

Cato watched the confused little frown mar her smooth forehead adorably, and he was struck by an urge to kiss every wrinkle away. But – damn it all – she had to give him permission. Because he knew that if he started, he wasn't going to stop. Not this time. The stress from the past few days, and the knowledge that they might not come out of this ordeal alive was eating him up inside.

"Yes," she whispered, and pulled his head back to hers, their lips meeting in a torrid kiss once again. It had to be tonight, and preferably now. She wondered absently if they were perhaps making a mistake, then remembered that one or both of them was going to die soon anyway, so it wasn't like it mattered.

Plus, she really wanted to get some of that before she died. In that moment, with sensitive spots in her body aching for attention and heat pooling in her core, it seemed absolutely imperative. Trying to bring her message across more strongly to him, she held him even tighter to her, and snaked one hand to his front to begin undoing his suit jacket.

Stroking the big, shiny buttons with her fingers, she quickly slipped them out of the loops, allowing her to – with a certain amount of glee at being able to smooth her hands over his amazing arms – slide it off.

The feeling of his jacket being pushed off his shoulders and down his arms seemed to signal something to Cato; it was a sign that all bets were off. Lifting his head, he frowned around at the surroundings, surged up and lifted her effortlessly into his arms. It was fun, but admittedly a little scary, to be lifted with such ease and speed, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him and hung on tightly.

Nuzzling her face into his neck, she bit down gently on his skin, before sucking and licking on it gently to make it better. Cato looked down at her, amused. "Did you just give me a hickey?" he asked.

Rosalie leaned up and looked closely at his neck, where a pinkish mark was starting to form. "Yes," she told him sunnily, grinning at him. He rolled his eyes and placed her down on the bed. She looked around, confused. Apparently, while she'd been giving him a hickey, he'd gotten them to her bedroom.

He leaned down to her exposed collarbone and bit down on it. "Turnabout is fair play," he told her as he gently licked around the forming mark. She rolled her eyes back at him and kissed him. "I love you," she told him, her voice breaking. It all turned so real at that moment, that she was going to die. She remembered all those conversations late at night, when they'd snuck out of their houses and sat by the lake on the ends of their district – the opposite end from the coal mines. They'd talked about everything, what they would do when they were adults, how many kids they would have (three; the girl would come last. The first two boys would be Michael and Finn, and their daughter would be Shannon) and where they would all live.

Blinking her eyes furiously, she tried to stop the tears from coming in and ruining the moment. The burning pain in her nose wouldn't cease, and she sniffled slightly, willing her tears to go back into their ducts.

Cato immediately stopped and gathered her into his arms. "What's wrong, baby?" he asked her tenderly, kissing her temple as he stroked her hair, usually straight and soft, but curly at the moment. He began to play with it absently, threading his fingers through the curls and twirling them around his fingers. To his horror, she started crying harder.

"Rose, are you all right? Did I hurt you?" he asked, starting to panic. Burying her face into his chest, she shook her head. "I just… I don't want to… I don't want to _die!"_ she exclaimed, bursting into tears once again. "I want to go home, and… and have Michael and Finn and Shannon, and, I - "

Cato gripped her chin and lifted her head up so she was looking at him. Tenderly, he wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb, leaning down to kiss her tenderly. "It's not the end, Rose. We still have a few days," he told her softly, his azure eyes gazing intensely into hers. "And you might even be the Victor, and you can go home and live your life, the way we always dreamed."

He didn't say the obvious, that it would be without him. He was strangely okay with that. He'd always thought that winning the Games would be the epitome of accomplishments, the best thing he could ever hope to do with his life. But he realized now that he didn't mind losing. Of course he didn't want to die, but if that was the price required of him for Rosalie's life and happiness, he would gladly pay it.

But for now… He shifted uncomfortably, feeling like the biggest kind of jerk for being aroused while she was obviously upset and he was comforting her. "Uhm…" he tried to get her attention as he moved her off his lap. If possible, he really wanted to get back to what they'd been doing, but seeing how upset she was, he figured that maybe he should put it back in his pants and stop thinking about it.

When he lay her back down on the bed, Rosalie acquiesced, thinking that they were going to be continuing what they'd been doing before her untimely breakdown had interrupted them. When Cato stood up and kissed her chastely on the lips before walking towards the exit, she sat up, frowning. "Where are you going?" she asked, confused.

Cato turned, looking uncomfortable. His erection was clearly tenting the front of his dress pants, and she raised her brow inquiringly. "I- I'm really sorry, Rose. I just have to take care of a problem, and then I'll be right back."

Rose stood up as well, looking extremely upset. "So you don't… want to… to make love to me anymore?" she asked, the last part a whisper. Her shoulders slumped. This was probably the last night she would have to be with him like this. Now she was going to go into the arena without knowing what it was like, without this experience to cherish for the short time she had left, and all because she'd been stupid and couldn't control herself.

Stupid, stupid Rosalie. So much for being the Ice Queen, nonchalant and calm about everything. If only she'd managed to hold on to that façade for a little longer, she'd have the experience of a lifetime. Not that there were going to be many more because she was going to die within the next two weeks.

Cato was confused. Given that she was freaking out over the Games starting tomorrow, he figured she probably didn't want to make love anymore. Which was totally fine by him, because he was up for cuddling if she wanted him to, but he'd figured she wouldn't want his monster hard-on pressing into her stomach all night long.

When she looked up at him sadly he abruptly realized he'd misread the situation, and she still wanted to make love. Part of him was screaming _Hallelujah!_ at the top of his lungs, but another part of him was concerned that she was doing it for the wrong reasons.

He walked over to her and hugged her close, burying his face into her hair. It was a lot more ticklish when it was curly, he noted. "Baby, you have to be sure that you really want to do this tonight, and for the right reasons. I just don't want you to regret this."

She looked up at him and scowled. "Are you insinuating that I don't know my own mind?" she asked, sounding annoyed. Then her face softened and she stood up on tiptoe to kiss him sweetly. "I know you only want to take care of me, but I'm a big girl and I can make my own decisions. And in any case, haven't I been taking care of you since we met?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"I just want to make sure that you're doing this because you really want to, and not because the Games are starting tomorrow," he explained.

Rosalie sighed, and holding his hand, led him over to the bed, and sat down next to him, so that they were facing each other. "Cato, I've known you for eleven years, and we've been dating for like four of them. I'm ready and I know it. And yeah, I mean, if not now, we may never get a chance to, ever again. And I want this, Cato. I really do. I love you, and I'm ready. And it seems like you are, too," she finished, her eyes flicking downwards for a moment before looking back up and into his eyes.

And that was it. Cato couldn't argue with that, and he didn't want to anymore, because what she just said was really hot. "I really fucking love you," he told her, because he just couldn't tell her enough times. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he chanted as he peppered butterfly kisses over her lids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and her lips. Kissing her deeply, he fumbled for the catch on the back of the dress.

He got frustrated when he couldn't find it, sitting up and scowling at her. "How the hell do you get this damn dress off?" he asked, annoyed. Rosalie chuckled as she reached behind her to unhook the fastenings. It seemed that Cato had a problem with getting rid of any shirt she wore – unless it was a T-shirt or a button-down blouse. She remembered the first time they'd gotten to second base; he'd taken her out for a nice dinner and later that night, had ripped her blouse apart because he couldn't figure out how to get it off without destroying it.

"At least you've learnt to ask how to do it now," she teased as she slid it off her shoulders so that it pooled in a heap around her. He chuckled in response and speared his fingers into her hair as he pulled her close. "Well, it's hard to forget how you tore into me for that," he responded, his hands sliding down her body.

When his hands didn't meet bare skin, but instead encountered her strapless bra, he growled in frustration. "Why do you always wear so many layers?"

She laughed at him. "Would you rather I walk around naked?" she asked.

Cato actually looked panicked for a moment. "No!" he shouted, before looking down at her suspiciously, as she held her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. "You were joking, weren't you?" he asked. "Was that a rhetoric question?" she responded dryly.

Suitably chastised, Cato went about unhooking her bra. When he removed it and sent it flying, she smiled at him. "You've gotten good at this," she told him, smiling at him.

"I've had a lot of practice," he responded, whispering the words against her lips. Then he kissed his way down her neck and past her collarbone, giving the love bite he'd left there earlier a little lick. "Rose, you have the most beautiful breasts," he groaned as he began playing with them; sucking, kissing and nipping at them.

She laughed breathily at him. "It's not like you haven't - oh - haven't seen them before - oh, _Cato_," she moaned as he did something particularly ingenious with his tongue.

He glanced up at her, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "I love it when you say my name like that," he whispered sexily, before returning his attention back to her body. While he worshipped her breasts, he let one hand trail downwards, past her flat, toned stomach and past her rounded hips, sliding the dress out from under her and flinging it carelessly to the ground.

He began slowly licking a path down her body, stopping at her stomach to rub his face against it, much like a cat would. She squealed and writhed underneath him. "Your hair tickles!" she admonished as she pushed his head away from her stomach.

Laughing, he slid his hands down her sides and quickly pulled off her panties, sliding them past her long legs. Both Cato and Rosalie drew in a sharp breath at that. For Rosalie, it was a combination of shock, nervousness and insecurity. For the first time, she marveled at the power of a tiny scrap of fabric – without it on, she suddenly felt out of her depth, especially with Cato still fully dressed.

For Cato, it was awe and love that took his breath away. She'd been waxed all over – including there, and her skin looked so soft and smooth that his mouth watered and his fingers itched to touch it, but some unknown force kept him from falling on her like a starving madman, which was probably a good thing, anyway.

If it was possible, his erection just got about a thousand times harder, and it felt like it could cut through diamond. He wondered if the imprint of his zipper would be permanently imprinted on his dick, because it sure felt like it.

He was so absorbed in simply staring at her that he didn't notice that he was ogling her. In fact, he didn't notice much of anything, which was an achievement in itself, taking into consideration that he'd spent most of his life training to be a warrior.

Rosalie watched his eyes get wider and wider, and although she was reluctant to admit it, it was an enormous turn-on, to know that she was affecting him like this – and she wasn't even doing anything yet! Emboldened, she sat up and began to unbutton his shirt, licking her lips softly in anticipation. Although she'd seen them countless times before, she _loved_ looking at Cato's abs. They were amazing, a testament to all those workouts.

Running her hands over all that golden bare skin, she slipped the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, then down his abs, feeling the ridges under her palms and fingertips. Sliding her fingers lower still, she soon met the waistband of his dress pants and heard his strangled intake of breath as her fingers wandered dangerously close to little Cato. He braced himself for the fireworks that were sure to come when they made contact. Then, unthinkably, her fingers trailed upwards.

Cato shuddered. "God, Rose," he rasped. "You're going to kill me," he groaned, meaning every word of it. She just giggled and pushed him back on the bed, straddling him. Her bare core pressed against his lower stomach and he groaned, feeling how wet she was already. She looked down at his abs, her fingers tracing them gently. "You know, I've seen them a lot of times, at training and whatnot," she commented. "And every time I see them, I wonder what they'd taste like."

Cato's eyes widened and he raised his arms to stop her – just a moment too late. Rosalie leaned down and gently ran her tongue along the ridge that ran along the middle of his abs. "Dear God," he cursed, fisting his hands tightly in her hair. "You really – _shit_ – really need to st- stop that," he moaned, feeling like he was dying from sensory overload. He felt like he was going to come right now, with her hot tongue stroking him and her hot core pressed against him, tantalizingly close to his cock, all soft and hot and wet.

With a growl, he flipped them over so that he was on top and she was trapped under him. He smirked down at her. "Payback time," he whispered hotly in her ear, before giving her earlobe a gentle bite, his teeth scraping slowly against the flesh. Rosalie shuddered as she closed her eyes, her fingers digging into his triceps.

Although he would never admit it, mostly because it would only piss her off, it was a huge turn-on for him when she held on to him like that. It made him feel big and strong, like he was the only one who could give her what she wanted – what she needed. Placing a gentle kiss on her jugular vein, where he could feel her pulse thrumming like a hummingbird's against his lips, he licked a slow path down to her collarbone. At the same time, his fingers slid up her inner thigh and rested gently on the outer lips of her core.

"Please," she whimpered, caught in a haze of erotic need. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she arched her back, rubbing her foot against his leg. She wondered with the small part of her brain that wasn't completely taken over by need how he'd gotten so good at this, since he, like her, had never done this before.

Cato stroked her gently, taking care not to do anything that might potentially cause her any pain. As his fingers bumped her clit, she gasped harshly and her eyes glazed over. He laughed lowly and did it again. "Do you like that?" he whispered softly in her ear, blowing gently as he did so. A tight, almost imperceptible nod was his answer as her fingers dug into his arms. Not that he needed it. Her body's response was answer enough, as she clenched tightly around his fingers and her juices saturated his hand.

Suddenly, it wasn't enough that his fingers were in her. His cock was about to burst through the stupid pants that he couldn't believe were still on him. He quickly withdrew from her and hurriedly undid the fly, his hands shaking so hard that he couldn't get the button out of its hole and ended up tearing it. He didn't bother with completely removing his pants; as soon as he'd gotten them over his hips, he fell onto her like a beast in rut.

The glimpse that Rosalie had of him before he covered her with his body again was not reassuring. His fingers had been a tight fit, but his enormous erection was just that… enormous. She wondered why she will still surprised when she'd felt it so many times before, prodding her belly when they made out.

"God, Rose, I need you so badly right now," he groaned as he positioned himself. He was so hard that he had to tilt his cock down to her opening. He pushed and suddenly he was sliding into her, ever so slowly. She tensed up painfully and he abruptly stopped. "It's all right, I've got you," he soothed gently when she buried her face into the crook between his shoulder and his neck.

He heard a stifled sob and stopped short, breathing hard to try and control his arousal. "Are you all right?" he asked, forcing his vocal chords to work.

Rosalie nodded, her face still buried. She trembled in his embrace, trying to choke back the sobs that threatened to spill free. She wasn't all right. It _hurt_, and she wanted him to go faster, and she wanted him to _stop teasing her, dammit_. "Faster," she choked out. "More."

Cato froze, not sure if he should take her seriously. She was so damn tight that it was driving him crazy, and it took every ounce of self-control that he had not to take her up on her offer. "Rose, you can't say things like that," he groaned as sweat slid down his face. "You can't- I'll hurt you," he rasped out, more to convince himself than to convince her. He was barely halfway inside her, and he felt like his head was going to come off his body. He trailed his hand back down, seeking her clit to give her the additional stimulation to distract her.

When his rough fingertips brushed her there, her body locked and she spun off into a wild, vicious little orgasm, her body clenching all around his. Cato growled, and thrust all the way inside of her.

For a moment they both froze, locking gazes with each other. "Oh, God," she breathed, as she absorbed the sensation of Cato being all the way inside her, as deep as he could go. Cato didn't respond as he began thrusting so hard it was almost violent. "Sorry," he groaned. "So- so sorry."

She squirmed underneath him, and it just about made fireworks go off in his mind. "Cato."

"Sorry. Just- just one moment. I'll be gentle again in… in a minute," he got out between thrusts.

"_Cato_," Rosalie said exasperatedly. "If you do it a little faster, I'll be able to come again." He didn't have any reaction, so she was about to repeat herself, when he suddenly triple-timed his stroke. Delighted, she arched into him and smiled when he growled at her.

"God, Rose, can you – _fuck – _can you come already?" he huffed out between thrusts as his hand slid back down to her clit. He felt almost like he was cheating, but damned if he was going to come without making her go over too. Well, again. Still, it wasn't easy. He was holding on to his control by his fingernails, and he was slipping.

As if on cue, Rosalie threw her head back as she fell over the precipice and shattered around him. Feeling her coming apart around him was the best feeling ever, and he shuddered as he, too, came with her. It was the most intense experience he had ever had, even better than that time when he'd tried some weed and gotten high. When it was over, he felt like he'd been completely drained, and slumped over her. He knew he should move, that he was probably squashing her, but he didn't have the strength to.

An indeterminate amount of time later, he finally found the strength to wobble to the bathroom and clean himself off. Rummaging around and searching through all the bottles and packets, he finally found some makeup removing wipes and brought them, as well as a wet cloth, back to the room. From what he'd heard, it was a sin against nature to leave makeup on overnight, and he knew Rosalie would tear into him tomorrow if he let her commit that particular sin.

When he walked back into the bedroom, he almost melted on the spot when he saw that Rose had picked up a corner of the bedspread and pulled it over herself adorably. Walking back to her, he lifted her onto his lap and began to gently clean the makeup off with the wipes. That was some strong makeup; despite all the sweating it was still completely intact, not a smudge to be seen.

When he thought she looked clean enough, he stopped and picked up the washcloth, and began cleaning her nether lips. Rosalie whimpered and tried to squirm away from him; the rough touch of the washcloth was rubbing against her already oversensitive skin, and it hurt.

He didn't have the strength to go back to the bathroom after that, so he just dumped everything into the bin next to the bed and collapsed back onto the bed next to Rosalie. She snuggled close to him. "I love you," she whispered quietly, before she fell asleep. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Love you too," he mumbled.

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><p><em>Yay it's done! (: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm really sorry it took so long and also if you were disappointed that it wasn't up to standards! I hope you liked it anyway, and the next chapters will be up as soon as I finish them. Hopefully really soon because it's holidays now!<em>

_Love,_

_Peachy Hikaru_


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning was a flurry of activity. To quote Cato, who grumbled about it all morning, "At the ass crack of dawn I'm dragged out of bed by the short hairs with Rose and made to sit through a 'no hard feelings, but you're gonna die' lecture and warnings about things I've known for the better part of my life." All in all, he was plenty grouchy by the time he was put in the room alone with Romeo.

Rosalie, on the other hand, was a wreck. She'd almost used hair gel as toothpaste that morning, and it had been a struggle to get her hair into her normal French braid, her hands were trembling so much. Eventually she'd just gotten Sinjin to do it.

Now they were in their individual rooms, donning the regulation long-sleeved shirt and windbreaker. As Rosalie tied the laces on her combat boots, she wished that she could slip a knife in them, but they had to go in sans weapons, and there were so many cameras in the arena that she was sure to get caught.

Rosalie shivered and folded her arms together tightly against her chest. She knew logically that she couldn't be cold; the rooms were insulated and airtight, and it was high noon. The windbreaker and pants were also heavy-duty high-tech fabric, made to insulate her body even against the bitter cold that was sure to attack at night.

Her eyes drifted over to the wall. On the other side of it was Cato. How she wished that they could be here together. His cockiness and confidence was sure to comfort her now, although she usually found it amusing, yet annoying.

On her other side was Clover. Her eyes narrowed into little slits as she contemplated the flirting bitch. If she was going to die, she refused to let Clover kill her. You couldn't feel guilt if you died, right? She wondered if it was a bad thing that she was making it her own personal little mission to get Clover before she died. Probably not, since Clover was out for her blood too.

"All tributes in the Arena in one minute," the mechanical female voice announced over the speaker. Rosalie raised her frosty blue eyes to the ceiling, seeking the invisible speakers. Sinjin stopped her movement, his fingers holding tightly onto her chin. "I know you won't believe me, but you're a survivor. I can see it in you. You're going to do your best, and even if you don't win, all of Panem will still respect and remember the Ice Queen."

"All tributes to the Arena in 10 seconds. Nine, eight, seven…" As the countdown continued, Rosalie smiled gratefully at Sinjin. "Thank you for everything," she said, as she stepped into the tube that would take her to the arena.

In the next room, something similar was happening. Surprisingly, instead of being the picture of cocky confidence Rosalie had expected, Cato was pacing back and forth with worry. Oh, not for himself, he knew he could win this easily. But he was out of his mind with worry for Rosalie.

"She's going to be fine," Romeo told him, leaning against the wall. "I've seen it in her. She's a survivor, just like her brother. You just can't see it."

Cato glared at him. "Oh, but I suppose you can. Even though you've only known her for a week, give or take a few days, and I've known her for eleven years."

Romeo shrugged. "So don't believe me. You'll see. And when you come back and I'm right, I'm going to say, 'I told you so'." The subtle reassurance in his ability did its job. With a grateful smile, he stepped into the tube. "Thank you, Romeo," he said as he was sucked into the Arena.

Once there, Rosalie and Cato immediately sought each other out. Their gazes met and held for a moment, a wealth of meaning in that gaze. Rosalie wanted nothing more than to hop off her stand and run to Cato, but she knew that would be bad.

She turned her attention to the Cornucopia. In it was a wealth of weaponry, food, and survival equipment. She also knew, from watching the previous Hunger Games, that it was going to be a bloodbath. Those who got to the weapons first turned and killed those behind them. Her best bet wouldn't be to go for anything. She would run into the shelter of the trees and hide there for about an hour. After the remaining survivors had gone into the forest, she would return to stock up, since there was no way they could take all of that stuff.

She would have gone on to wonder why she was suddenly taking this so seriously, but the signal for all of them to start came, and suddenly she was dashing for her life away from the clearing and into the relative safety of the trees.

The male tribute from District 6 ran past her, carrying a backpack in one hand and a knife in the other. She heard the whizzing sound of an arrow being shot at him, and ducked as it flew past her head and into his heart.

He immediately fell to the ground, and without breaking her stride, Rosalie picked up both items and continued, hoping that there was something useful in the backpack, and that no one would come after her.

Lady Luck had apparently decided that a stroke of good luck needed a stroke of bad to even it out, and the big tribute from District 4 grabbed onto her long braid and yanked it cruelly so that she jerked towards him with a cry of pain. Going solely by instinct, she pulled forward as far as possible, until her braid was stretched tautly between her head and his fist, and before he could figure out what she was going to do, raised her knife and sliced through the braid.

He was left holding her unravelling braid in his hand, and she leapt over the remaining rocks and a few dying tributes on her way into the shelter of the trees.

When she finally reached the trees, she exhaled a sigh of relief, but didn't stop, knowing that someone would be coming after her. When she was finally assured that she was deep enough in the forest that the chances of someone sneaking up on her and killing her were slim enough, she slowed.

Have to find water, she thought to herself. She had to make a conscious effort not to mutter to herself, a habit she had when she was stressed. However, making unnecessary noises was sure to attract attention she didn't need.

She climbed up a tree and, sitting on branches as high up as she could go without risking a branch breaking, tried to look for a body of water, or maybe a herd of deer she could follow to lead her to water. When she found nothing, she closed her eyes and focused, listening for the sound of running water.

When she couldn't hear anything, she blew her breath out slowly, annoyed. "Damn it," she muttered. Water was the one thing she absolutely needed and couldn't find or make anywhere else. And just her rotten luck, she couldn't find any. She had no idea where to even begin looking.

"Well, water always flows downhill, so if I see a hill or something that might be a good start," she muttered to herself. But before she left the relative safety of the tree, she wanted to see what was in the backpack that she'd managed to procure.

Settling down in the tree, she leaned against the trunk and set the backpack in her lap. She unzipped it and stuck her hand in, hoping for something she could actually use for survival rather than some ridiculous item.

Her wish was granted; she found a long coil of rope, a large packet of purification tablets, a vial of antiseptic solution and a small tube of ointment. It appeared that the odds were, indeed, in her favour.

Sighing, she fingered a lock of hair, which had been roughly cut off. With nothing to hold it in place, her hair was starting to come out of its French braid and falling around her face.

Leaning her head back against the tree trunk, she sighed. Silly as it was, she really missed her hair. Not that it would matter in a few days, but still. She'd spent years meticulously grooming and maintaining her hair so that she could grow it out…

Checking to see if the coast was clear, she quickly swung her way down to the lower branches, and when she was on the lowest branches of the tree, she jumped down. Holding her knife in hand, she walked lightly, making sure not to break any branches or leave any real, discernible trace of where she was.

* * *

><p>Was it strange that Cato was actually enjoying himself? It probably was, but that didn't make it any less true. This was exhilarating! He walked through the forest with Clover and Noah, the three of them not bothering to cover their tracks, because – hey, who was going to be stupid enough to hunt them?<p>

He was so caught up in his power-induced euphoria that he didn't notice that Clover was walking closer and closer to him, until she was all but pressed up against him. He wondered where Rosalie was; the one thing that would make this experience perfect was if she was by his side, the 'queen' to his 'king' of the Games.

Wherever she was, he had no doubt that he would find her soon, but he hoped that it would be alive and well. He knew she'd survived the initial bloodbath; he'd seen her running into the trees. He almost shivered as he remembered the fury he'd felt when he saw that bloody tribute from District 4 grabbing her.

It was something he hadn't experienced before; that gripping, animalistic rage. He hadn't been fully in control; at that moment, if someone had stuck a knife in his back he wouldn't have known they were coming. And given that Cato prided himself on his almost uncanny senses in the battlefield, or Arena, as the case may be, that was deeply disturbing.

When he'd seen the District 4 tribute reach for her, something inside of him had snapped. Pulling his newly acquired broadsword out of his last victim's body – District 9's female tribute… or at least he thought it was District 9 – he went after the District 4 tribute with a vengeance, putting all his considerable body weight behind his sword as he ran the other tribute through with it.

And when his broadsword broke through the front of the tribute, a brutal pleasure and satisfaction burst through him, and as he pulled his sword free, the blood and gunk that coated the surface of his sword made him smile viciously. All the tributes would think twice before going after Rosalie. Well, they wouldn't think about it at all.

Clover hugging his arm to her body brought him out of his reverie and back into real life. He smiled uncomfortably and tugged his arm back. "So, where do you think Rosalie is?" she asked, smiling at him sweetly. She looked flirtatious, but he knew that she was asking because she was going after her. He was more astute than most people gave him credit for; he knew Clover wanted to kill Rosalie for whatever imagined feminine slight Rosalie had dealt her.

On the other side of him, Noah rolled his eyes. He knew Clover well, and didn't like her much. They'd always been in the same class, because they were of a similar calibre in combat skills or whatever, and he'd watched her going after every guy in the school. She was a real Queen Bee type, with girls following her around, idolizing her, and boys chasing her. Notorious for breaking up relationships whenever she felt like it, other girls in equal parts wanted to be her and were terrified of her.

It annoyed her that Rosalie wasn't falling into line; she was jealous and angry that Rosalie had managed to snare such a hot guy and he wasn't interested in her in the least. He actually really liked Rosalie; he thought she was rather nice. At least, she'd always been polite to him, and once she'd actually given him her dessert during lunch when she'd seen how much he'd enjoyed his.

He wondered how things would pan out for them; he really hoped that Clover didn't get Rosalie. That would really suck. Still, only one of them could become the Victor, and he certainly didn't intend to die here.

* * *

><p><em>Phew! Sorry for the long wait, and I hope you enjoyed this update, and that it met all your expectations ^^ I'm not sure where this story is going to go from here, so I will be accepting suggestions and comments on how I should proceed! (: So please review to tell me what you want to see in the upcoming chapters!<em>

_Love,_

_Peachy Hikaru_


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